


Rivertalks

by NightingaleLost



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fantrolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightingaleLost/pseuds/NightingaleLost





	Rivertalks

  
***

There's something about getting Persef to talk that makes Deacon feel proud.

It wasn't like he was mute or anything, he even had a particularly saucy tongue when he felt like showing it, but he was very quiet. Before Deacon had left he was quiet too but in a different way, more thoughtful, as if he were juggling each word in his head before letting them venture out of his mouth; now he was rendered near-silent in a way that Deacon could only describe as a bit fearful. As if he knew better than to say some things out loud because they would get him nowhere. And when Persef did speak it was often with a voice so low that he'd had to work to understand fully in the beginning.

So when Deacon manages to wheedle and tug words from him, get him going on something until he was speaking the way he remembered, he was filled with no small amount of pride, and mentally lounged back and basked in the fact that he was making Persef better. Slowly, but surely, he was knocking back the damage done in his absence.

Today however, is not one of those happy days.

He'd gotten Persef out of the hive, and back into the forest where he had once looked so at home. Deacon had hoped being surrounded by plants and trees and all the green would help relax the stress hanging around his thin shoulders and brighten him up some. He'd tried to get some conversation going and, success!

And that was where the pride pretty much ended. Somehow, for some crazy, senseless reason, Persef had started talking about Aiidas. Walking alongside a slow-moving river, Deacon was subjected to a miniature speech about the shit-spewing asshole and how he was a good guy under the surface if you cared to look. Deacon did not care to look. He was more of the mind to rip the gills out of the fucker's throat, and in his imaginative moods while he kicked in his opponents ribs in fights, he fondly pretended it was the seadweller in front of him instead. He'd nearly fallen for the asshole's words in the beginning but oh no, everything had quickly become clear with time, and he knew perfectly well whose fault it was that Persef had gotten so bad.

If he could get away with it, he mused, without his matesprit knowing, he'd grab him by the horns and splatter his violet blood across a ceiling. Hmmm...maybe all that subjuggulator shit was on to something...

Right now, though, he was close to clawing more scars over his face in frustrated exasperation. Maybe if he could just...distract him somehow...Deacon glanced over at the tealblood. He couldn't see him too well but he knew for certain that Persef's expression was animated, maybe even with a smile on it. He ground his teeth at the thought. An idea struck him. Well, they were alone, and distractions came in all forms....

Trying to keep his grin in check, he sidled a bit closer unless he was only inches away. He'd give him a little bump with his hip, and Persef would look up and he'd sneak in a kiss and it'd be super romantic and all thoughts of Aiidas would quickly be forgotten. Yes, the perfect plan. He gave it a few seconds and put it into action, giving Persef a gentle bump. 

It would have worked perfectly if Deacon hadn't been so eager to get it in the works; the bump turned out to be a little over-enthusiastic and Persef, caught off guard, slipped on the slippery pebbles of the rivershore and fell in with a yelp.

_'Oh shit.'_

Persef stood as quickly as he could from the water, sputtering. Deacon was going to help, he really was, in all seriousness, but he was stopped by the sight of the other's mane, once neatly combed, now in a sopping mess obscuring ever bit of Persef's face, forced a snort from his throat. And then another, until he was roaring with laughter and unable to stop. He looked like a half-drowned meowbeast after a storm! The other muttered something that probably was not loving and romantic, trying to find his way out of the river; instead he slipped over the smooth rocks underneath and nearly fell in again.

“Fuck, Persef...Persef l-lemme..” Deacon could barely get the words out. “I'll get you out, h...hold on.” Trying to quell his chuckles, he reached for the other but Persef was having none of that and found his own way out, his wet shoes slapping thickly over the shore. Another grumble and then he was trying to untangle his wet hair from his horns, which had become hopelessly entangled. This time he did let Deacon help when he came closer, and stood still while shaky fingers worked their magic. Teal met purple as Deacon pushed his hair out of his face, grinning widely. Persef did not look pleased, instead having the look of a troll who was dealing with a particularly difficult lusus, and half a second from just saying screw it.

“Deacon this is gonna take forever to dry.” Persef sighed, pursing his lips. The purpleblood was glad to see he was still in his better moods, and not regressing back into the silence he hated. A good sign.

“Aw come on, I didn't mean it, I promise.”

_“We'll see about that later when I dump water in your coon...”_ The tealblood muttered under his breath.

“Say what?”

“Nothing.”

Deacon smoothed back his hair some more, planting a kiss on his forehead. Ahh there was that sass he liked. “Sorry. I mean it this time, okay?” Persef sighed again but nodded, a small smile turning his lips as he leaned his head up, catching Deacon's lips in a kiss. There we go. That was better. The other drew back, patting wet clothes. “You should get out of those. Here.” He stripped off his shirt, offering it to his matesprit.

Persef agreed with a nod, carefully peeling a sopping wet sweater, jeans and shoes away from himself and donning Deacon's shirt. He enjoyed the feeling of it for a second, warm, dry and big. He straightened it out, letting it drop to settle below his thighs. Grabbing one side of his hair he squeezed, water splattering onto the ground below. “I'm not going into the hive like this, you know.”

Deacon chuckled. “That's cool, we can still walk.” He slung the damp clothes over one shoulder, shoes in the other hand. Persef couldn't help but smile, slipping his hand into Deacon's free one. Fingers intertwined gently, rubbing over callouses and scars.

As they started walking again Deacon reflected that, technically, his plan had worked.

***


End file.
